


Constellations

by sera_wasnever



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Backstory, First Meetings, Gen, Helium Wars, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), gonna be mainly fab 4, tags to expand...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sera_wasnever/pseuds/sera_wasnever
Summary: *on hiatus until I get academic stuff sorted y'know how it is - probably around the end of november*There's a family in the finding. There's kids making it up as they go along. There's a war going on.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 22





	1. Introduction - Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Let's start here I guess.

X

During the Analog wars, BL/ind would send out unaccompanied packs of draculoids to roam the zones with no orders but to kill, until there were none left. There was no point in tightly controlled raids -- the resistance’s numbers meant that there was an endless supply of bodies to steal and targets to point them at. It was a bloody affair, and BL/ind was ready to gorge itself.

There was no Scarecrow oversight, no one to keep them in line, but more importantly, no one with enough of a brain left to notice that one drac’s white blazer was fitting much too tightly. It wasn’t much more than shreds, really. At this point, the rest of its group had either died or moved ahead -- it had only survived through sheer luck and numbers. They were one of the last free-roaming packs, the resistance having been all but decimated already. But now, it would join its companions, white clothes stained red with blood, screaming to the merciless emptiness of the desert. The pain blanked out its vision and almost overwhelmed the instinct to destroy the horror – no, horrors - that were approaching. They ran closer, and the drac tried to shoot at them, but was unable to move from where it had collapsed on the hot desert sand. The horrors seemed to say something, in those strange tongues that were all the drac could hear, and, all of a sudden, one of them was grabbing at the drac, tearing off the scraps that remained of the uniform. Another seized its hand, but the drac could feel nothing except pain and terror, and a white-hot scream that was all it could see.

And then, she saw nothing.

She was in the darkness, and she was herself.

A bird passed by, and she reached out, but it seemed not to see her. She didn’t mind; she could wait. She was trapped here for now, but it was better than being controlled. And besides, that wasn’t entirely true.

If she still had a mouth, she would have smiled.

Somewhere in the desert, in the arms of a panicked teenager, the baby that had carried one last fragment of her to freedom, did so.


	2. Cockroach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scout stumbles upon something he didn't expect.

_X-1_

The sunset was already turning the rubble pink before Jet Star had managed to search through even half of the bombed out old warehouses, and – stupid fucking arrogance! – he’d not brought half the camp stuff that FireBrand had tried to make him take. It was his first time out scouting this far on his own, and he hadn’t wanted the others to think he was being coddled or some shit. They probably already thought so. It shouldn’t have taken so long for FireBrand to send him out on a proper mission on his own, he couldn’t be eighteen and still tagging along next to her. Made it look like – ugh there was a word for this somewhere in his head – like nepotism or some shit. Practically operating like BL/ind.

Still, he missed having someone with him. As it was, he’d have to try to sleep through the coldest part of the night with just a blanket and no one to share body heat with. He shivered at the thought and tried to put it from his mind – the warehouse up ahead looked to be pretty intact, it ought to give some shelter.

Jet found the empty doorway strangely clear of debris, and some faint alarm bells started ringing in his head. There hadn’t been many signs of life around – beyond the occasional bug – but he still hadn’t found that water reservoir he was looking for. If there was anything out here it would be there. He shouldered the door open slowly, with his gun ready.

The faint alarm bells started screeching the second his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw Scarecrow issue gear scattered on the ground. Fuck, he’d stumbled right into a nest. Jet’s hands clenched around his ray gun, and he edged sideways, sticking to the wall and glancing around sharply. No, that’s not what FireBrand would do. He slowed his breathing and relaxed his grip – jerky movements and sweaty hands were no good. If there were Scarecrows here, this must be where the water was. He just had to get confirmation that it was still there, and he could head back to the group before midnight. Jet side-eyed the backpack lying next to him, contents strewn over the floor. Whoever was holed up here, they were messy.

Quiet too. This couldn’t be a nest, there were usually two or three Dracs for each Scarecrow, and they were usually pretty fucking loud. Always bragging about or bickering, in that grating nasal voice they all shared. It made him sick. But here there was no sound at all. Just the rush of the wind picking up, the scuttle of beetles, and absolutely nothi-

No.

Sobbing. Somewhere, in the far end of this building, someone was sobbing.

Jet almost dropped his gun, before stumbling forwards, eyes wide, breathing forgotten. Well shit, now he had to find whoever it was.

He instinctively called out “Hello?” before slapping his hand over his mouth. Idiot. Maybe there was someone being kept prisoner. Maybe whoever it was wasn’t gonna appreciate someone barging into their hiding place. Hell, maybe a Scarecrow was just having a bad day. Could they even do that? Jet had heard about pills that cut off emotions, but he’d also heard about creepy robot parents and humans being turned into droids, so he didn’t know what to believe. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to react to his voice.

Rooting around in his bag, he finally pulled out his flashlight, and started clambering over rubble towards the source of the sound, watching critters running from the beam of light and clearing his path.

The sound gradually got louder, but not properly. It wasn’t proper crying, and wailing, it was dry painful-sounding sobs, coming, Jet realised, from a pile at the end of a corridor, heaving ever so slightly with each noise.

“Hey,” Jet spoke, voice tinged with uncertainty. No response.

Against his better judgement, Jet crouched down to its level and slowly reached out, trying to stay as reassuring as possible.

“Hey there, I’m not going to hurt you, I just want-”

A face emerged from the pile and snapped – snapped! – at Jet’s hand, before retreating, growling like a coyote, reddened eyes shining from under their arms, brought up in a futile attempt to shield their face.

“Okay, no touching, got it.”

Jet frowned, biting his lip. Okay. How was he going to handle this.

The bundle of limbs in the corner was dressed in the remains of Scarecrow uniform, but couldn’t be any less of a threat. Their greasy hair was grown out longer than he’d ever seen on BL/ind agents, they must have been out here for a few months at least. It formed a tangled mess over their face, which, Jet realised with a start, was clearly a child’s, despite the deceptive hollowness in their cheeks. They were maybe a boy, five or so years younger than Jet? Definitely too young to be mixed up in this shit.

Jet wasn’t sure if the kid even understood him, he was talking more to himself than the boy. “How long have you been out here on your own, huh? They abandon ya? You don’t look like you’re getting much help from Scarecrow.”

At the mention of Scarecrow unit the boy made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whimper, and crushed himself further into the wall, away from Jet.

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got less than nothing to do with those bastards,” Jet smiled dryly “I’m here to help you.” Okay, maybe not strictly true, but he was sure gonna try.

Jet put his gun down, and the boy visibly relaxed, arms coming down from over his face, and instead peering over his knees to try and see what Jet was doing rooting around in his bag.

“Here,” he said, opening a small can of… something and pushing it towards the kid. “You look starved.”

The boy eyed it warily for only a second, then locked eyes with Jet, and immediately wolfed down the canned, uhhh, dog food with a determination that almost made Jet laugh.

“The name’s Jet Star, you got one?”

A voice scratchy and hoarse with disuse made its way through a mouthful of food.

“Not anymore.”

He stopped abruptly and swallowed. This time his voice had an edge to it.

“ ‘Mean, not yet.”

Jet smiled, for real this time. Now they were getting somewhere.

The kid didn’t carry on his streak of forming sentences, but he did swear his ass off while staggering to his feet so unsteadily that Jet had to catch him. When Jet asked him how long he’d been there, his response was a simple look that somehow perfectly communicated _“how the fuck should I know”_ , then quickly scampered up onto a pile of rubble to stare out the window. Well. He recovered fast.

“But how have you eaten?” Jet paused. “Have you eaten?”

The boy grunted no, then seemed to change his mind, stopped, looked around for something, and pointed back a way. Peering closer, Jet saw what looked like decaying bits of lizard, that had obviously been there a very long time. His stomach turned. Lizard wasn’t half bad, but raw? Never again.

“And water? There anything to drink here?”

The boy looked at Jet suspiciously for a few seconds, then pointed downwards. Right, there must be a tank downstairs. But it didn’t look like he was going to show the way anytime soon. Fair enough, guess his trust wasn’t entirely bought with a can of dog food.

Still, water or not, he ought to get this guy, and his Scarecrow gear, to the group. He seriously doubted that he’d last much longer on lizards and beetles.

“Y’know,” Jet started, “There are other people living out here that can help you.”

“Rebels?” The boy turned sharply towards Jet. His eyes were lit up for just a second, but then he seemed to doubt himself and looked down, biting his lip.

“Yes,” Jet nodded, “That’s who I’m with, but we’re more than that,” Jet leant on the wall trying to sum it all up, “We were a larger gang that happened to have a few agents in the thick of it before we were all pushed to fight. You wouldn’t be thrown back into a firefight if you didn’t want to.”

The kid just kept staring, like if he looked hard enough he could see the rebels through the tiny window. He was tense, shoulders all bunched up, and shaking slightly, and he was tapping his fingers on the edge of the window. Jet sighed.

“Well, think about it. For now, let’s just find a proper place to set up camp, okay?”

Jet poked around the warehouse by himself for a while, finding endless rooms of rubble, most of them with walls intact enough to keep out the wind. Really, he was spoiled for choice. He did have a look to see if he could find the way down to the water tank, and sure enough, there was a staircase down into a basement, leading into a cold, damp room filled with pipes and a big metal tank. Probably best to let the kid know he’d found it.

Jet made his way back up the kid, who was pacing up and down the little hallway.

“Hey, I just- “

The kid jerked around and Jet had to dodge the handful of rubble that was thrown right at him.

“What the fuck was- !?” Jet stopped himself and went back to a more level voice. “It’s just me. Don’t worry.”

The kid was shaking violently now, he grabbed his raised hand and brought it down to hug himself and rock back and forth on his heels.

In a tiny, hoarse voice he said, “I- I didn’t.”

Jet started moving closer, only continuing when he met the boy’s eyes and he gave a barely perceptible nod. He put a hand on his shoulder and gave a half-smile.

“’S okay. I found the water, you wanna come set up camp there with me? I’ve got a decent blanket, and it’ll be warmer with two people.”

He set off down the corridor to the stairs as soon as Jet said the word blanket.

* * *

It was pretty fucking sweet sleeping surrounded by four actual walls, Jet thought. He usually slept in a tent, and the wind could howl like nothing else at night. But here he was, in a proper building with his own blanket plus the one they salvaged from the Scarecrow backpack, and shared heat, and here everything was still.

Well, except for one thing. He was still shivering, even though he’d wrapped himself so tight in the blanket that Jet hardly had any left. Sometimes he’d freeze up, and jerk around in his sleep, nearly took Jet’s eye out. Poor kid. Can’t have been here more than a few months, but that’s far too long to be alone out here. He couldn’t imagine it. Even with everything that had happened, Jet had never been alone, not really. Never fending for himself among the dust and debris and bugs. He’d meant _this_ to be his first taste of independence, and that’d sure crashed off course. This kid was, what, fifteen? He’d lived through worse than Jet never had. He pulled the blanket closer, so Jet was left with none, and the tag on his wrist glinted in the darkness. Probably done worse too.

Jet shook the thought from his head. If he was here, he ran away. BL/ind messed with your head, he’d met people who’d recovered from it; they’d never spill the details, but it had to be bad, whatever it was they did. And a child wouldn’t have been out long enough to do anything. Still, Jet had made sure there wasn’t anything sharp nearby, apart from his own knife in his jacket. None of the recovered people had actually worked for S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, and that was why this kid would be special. He _had_ to get better. For the kid’s own sake too of course. But this, this could mean something.

Jet pulled his jacket closer around himself and drifted off. He slept lightly, having always volunteered first for watch. It was all they let him do for ages. But he always dreamed. Tonight, he’d let himself dream of shoving it in Raven’s face and proving him wrong. But mainly he dreamt of family. Real family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✩☆☆!


	3. Welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A greasy little kid is dragged into some kinda society. Disgusting.

The dripping. The pipe. It’s too loud.

I squeeze my eyes shut but sleep won’t come. There’s only colours, dancing across the black of my eyes and blinding me more and more, only getting worse as I squeeze them closed. I know the warehouse is dark and grey, but it’s so bright. Everything’s so bright.

It’s warm though. I didn’t realise it was so warm, sleeping next to someone.

I’ve worked out how to sleep through the lights and the noises and the shaking – from cold and not from cold. I know I must have. I can’t have been awake for… however long I’ve been here. Now I don’t need to worry about the cold at least. My fingers aren’t jittery, but they feel like they’re buzzing. Huh.

The heat is seeping into my bones, settling me. The rebel, no, don’t want their words, the – what was it? Jet Star? – seems to be asleep too, judging by his heartbeat. Good. He can’t hurt me like that. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he won’t. Maybe.

If I wanted, I could leave.

I don’t want to.

I do want to leave though. I’ve been breathing the same air for so long and everything’s wrong. Maybe it’ll be alright somewhere else. But night-time’s no good for marches. Can’t go. Don’t want to leave now, anyway. Now, there’s a – a – something. Rushes through my blood, but gentle. Calming. _Warm_ calming. Not cold like their calming. Like there.

Can go tomorrow. Get further away from there.

But sleep.

I need to sleep.

* * *

Jet woke just as the sun was creeping in the east window, high on the wall. Right. Time to go. He’d found what he was looking for, the drip was pretty much the only sound down here, and the longer he left it, the more water was being wasted. He shuddered to think of it.

It was the only thing down here to wake him, so it explained why he’d woken up so late. He’d thought the dawn light was thin and pale, but that was nothing compared to the dull greyness coming outta the remaining fluorescents here. This whole place was shit. It was stale, that’s what it was. Nothing could live here without suffocating on its own breath. Hell, on its own thoughts. He couldn’t think of anything new in here. It wanted to make his head claustrophobic, even though there was quite a bit of headspace down here, and more than enough room for him.

He sat up – and remembered with a jolt that it wasn’t just him, and it wasn’t just cold. The kid! There he was, sleeping peacefully at last.

Shit, all the more reason to get back. Work out what on earth was gonna happen to him. How to explain why he’d come back with a lost little crow.

He imagined how the scene would go and winced a little. They’d taken in city-born before, of course, and it had always been weird, sort of tensely cheerful. He wasn’t sure he knew of more than a couple proper turncoats who’d actually _fought_ against them in all the Zones. Best to take him to the trio – Fire, Smash and Pixie – first; ease him into it. They oughta be sensible, no paranoia, no bullshit.

Even then, the thought of bringing him into a large group of people in the state he was in made Jet uneasy. He’d been so scared when Jet came in, who knew how long he’d been here without human contact. Jet was a little reluctant to even wake him, but it had to be done.

He had to admit, he was relieved when shaking the kid’s shoulder was met with a groan and the opening of bleary grey eyes, and not a bite.

“C’mon, time to go,” he whispered.

The kid just turned onto his back, greasy black hair even more in his face, and arm splayed out dramatically, eventually letting out a hoarse “Whyyyyyyy?”

“We gotta go meet the rest of my lot. They’re good people, you’ll like them.”

The kid looked up and furrowed his brow – confused or sceptical, Jet didn’t know – before dragging himself upright and crossing his arms.

“M’not walking into a gang of rebels. Not stupid.”

Jet was unimpressed. “What? You worried Selene Tanaka’s gonna march in and court martial you?” The boy’s eyes had gone wide, and his breathing shallow. Shit. He’d said something wrong. He raised his hands and stepped back, trying to come off softer. “Look, what I’m trying to say is, you’re not one of them, right?”

The boy shook his head stiffly.

“Then you have to be one of us. You _are_ a rebel. No two ways round it.” Jet sighed. “Okay, just, how long has it been since you left here?”

The boy shrugged and wiped his face – he’d been tearing up, Jet realised. “Backpack ran out. Looked for food. Only dust ‘n danger. Dunno how long since.”

“Right, well, no danger with me –“ The boy huffed his disbelief, almost smirking, and Jet grinned, “- Serious! I’ve been out here my whole life, a little trip from the dust to the sands ain’t nothin. And there’s food, _real_ food, when we make it back.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and Jet knew he was onto something.

“Uh huh, I’m talking hot meals, even fresh veg one day. That’s why I had to come out here, to find water for the little garden they’re tryna plan. But there’s no use standing here thinking about it, we gotta _go_.”

The sun was high in the sky when they reached the camp, and they were both sick to death of walking. At least, as far as Jet could tell from the kid. He’d been more lively though, which was a relief. Jet had been trying out a few names for him along the way, hadn’t struck gold yet though, and the kid was _not_ co-operating.

When they’d first left the warehouse, and he’d cringed in the light, he’d called him a coffin-crawler. That had not gone down well. Then, when he stopped to stare at a lizard he’d been a gecko, which Jet thought he’d found funny, but hadn’t stuck. To be honest he reminded Jet more of a hawk, eyeing up his prey, but that was mean. There wasn’t much else to eat on his own, couldn’t blame the kid for some bad dietary decisions. Anyway, lizard wasn’t so bad if you cooked it.

By now they were too tired and hot for names, and Jet thanked the Witch it was winter.

Hadn’t meant to do that out loud, and the kid looked like he was about to question the turn of phrase, when they both stopped, watching someone emerge from a tent and walk towards them. Well shit. It was like he’d summoned him.

He was tall, taller than Jet, though he knew it was only cause of the ridiculous platforms. He had loose oil-slick black hair, like the kid; wore half a dozen necklaces, like Jet; and strode towards them with an attitude that was all his own. Bastard.

Despite the swagger in his step, all Rave gave them was a curt “Jet Star,” and a raised eyebrow to the kid, who had half hidden behind him and had the beginnings of a grimace on his face. “FireBrand’s waiting for you inside. Says it’s urgent. Best to bring along any… news you got directly to her and Pixie.”

“Thanks, Raven,” Jet tried to be cold but just came out with awkward, “see ya.”

Rave gave a nod and went off to an awning the other side of the camp, probably to sit and brood. Or start on the pile of clothes to fix sitting there. Whatever, probably brooding.

“Was that your friend?” the boy asked, emerging from behind Jet, and unhunching his shoulders.

“No! Ah, don’t, don’t worry about him, he’s just. My ex.”

“Right.” Jet couldn’t tell if the kid was laughing behind his hair. Ugh.

“Anyway, we’re going to meet a few people now, thought I’d warn ya beforehand. Didn’t get a chance with Rave, but he’s already done the service of fucking off so no need. Red and orange, with the braids and glasses, is FireBrand. Short spiky blonde in green and yellow is Pyro Pixie, and purple with the scarf is Smash Hit. They’re not in charge, but the one thing this group’s got in common is we listen to Fire. Got that?” The kid looked thoroughly lost, and Jet sighed. “Great. Let’s go.”

* * *

I’m being led into one of the tents. They’ve got at least 2 dozen here, scattered like pebbles at the foot of the slope. And here, is where there leader lives? I think? Still not clear on whatever he’s trying to tell me.

The tent is dark, but it’s brighter than anything I’ve seen, just from the people in it. Only two of them though, not the three Jet Star had mentioned. They’re both older than him, but not by much. Not enough to be leaders. But hey, what do I know about rebels. They’re nothing like it was. The dark haired one is wearing what looks like regulation sunglasses, with jagged plastic stuck over the frames, that I’m surprised doesn’t jab Jet Star when she pulls him into a hug. Fire Brand, she must be. Sounds familiar, but don’t want to call back anything I know from then.

Instead I focus on the other one, spiky badly dyed blonde hair, and a shirt that looks like it’s made of a net, and with more metal in their face than I thought possible. They grin and walk up to us, and I shrink further into the shadows.

“Jet Star! Look who’s finally back from a solo outing,” They ruffle his hair, as he’s released from Fire Brand’s embrace, “Took long enough!”

Fire Brand shakes her head and steps back, but she’s still smiling, even as she reprimands the other in her low, severe voice, “Pixie, we’ve talked about this, love.”

Jet speaks up, “C’mon, you know she’s messing with you-“

But Pixie’s spotted me, and she steps from him to me, “Hold up, who’s this?” She should be the scariest thing I’ve ever seen, all muscles and piercings, ray gun at her hip, but all I can do is stand there mute.

“Oh right, I found him in the warehouse – there’s water there! – and he’s-”

Fire Brand buts in, “He’s wearing an old crow uniform is what he is. Care to explain? Either of you?”

“He’s safe! I’m pretty sure. Found him near dead in the warehouse, think he quit on them.”

“Can you even do that?” Pixie this time, laughing. I’m biting my tongue, frozen in headlights.

“Look, I think it’s hard, he’s a bit skittish. I don’t want to over…”

But Jet fades out, and I don’t care what he’s saying. I don’t want to listen to them. I want to know what I’m doing. I want to curl up into a ball and sit there forever. I want anything but that. I want any clue what’s going on ever. I want to- I want to throw up. Fuck.

* * *

“Fuck!” Jet had almost shouted when the kid started retching, but Pixie had no such reservations.

The kid was just sitting there now, and Jet wasn’t sure if he was conscious. So much for a gentle introduction. “See, I told you!” he hissed.

“Yeah yeah,” Pixie shook her head, “All right, I’m gonna go go clear this up, you guys take him outside.”

“Poor kid,” Jet heard her muttering, as she went to look for some rags.

“C’mon then,” FireBrand hauled the boy up, who looked dizzy but conscious, “Here, get his other arm,” and they helped him outside, setting him down in the newly appeared shadow of the tent. Must’ve been a while since noon.

“You okay?” Jet tried, sitting down next to him in the dirt.

“Mmhmm. I just. It’s a lot”

“I’d imagine,” Fire said as she joined them. “So, kid, can we know a bit more about you? We can help you, y’know, but you’ve got to trust us.”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“All right, basics. Did you leave Scarecrow?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen, just past fifteen, I left on my- I had just-”

The kid looked frantic and FireBrand held up a hand, “It’s all right, we can wait for details. For now, I’d like maybe your name? Pronouns?”

“Um.” The kid looked off balance again.

“Like, should we refer to you as he, she, they, xe, whatever you want.” Jet clarified. He was kicking himself for not going over this earlier, before he was overwhelmed.

“Oh, uhhh he’s fine.”

“And your name? Just for now.”

“Not yet.”

“Brilliant. We’ll workshop it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'm writing this a while later cause it's glitching and showing old notes in this section but I went to check cause I'm boutta post more soooo :D looking forward to getting to more of Jet's people, but don't worry, the gang's gonna be all here. um. eventually.


	4. Campfires and Camaraderie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite runaway tries to fit in with the biggest group of rebels in the zones, so of course, he's got to get his brand down...

They want a name. Wish I could give them one. I lay down in the dust, Jet Star going off with Fire ‘round the corner. Can’t hear what they’re talking ‘bout. Not really trying. Trying to think – to think without sending myself spiralling.

I don’t remember shit, until I _do_ , and then it comes back to me why I don’t want to. But I do remember I was Andrew. Andrew David Francisco Jr.. My father’s name, my mother’s business. Hell, she invented the job. Selene Tanaka – had almost forgotten her name until Jet brought it up. Andrew was a disappointment, couldn’t do anything himself. Barely made it through the exams she wanted him to set records in. Still, he made it in.

I keep getting back the memory of leaving, of a birthday cake with a pumpkin on it, of parents seeing me out the door. But I can tell it’s not real. Too shiny and neat. And besides, they were too busy to work. Nanny was too shiny too, though I’m pretty sure she existed.

I was just Junior when I was out there, when it was-

I felt like I hadn’t seen colour till out there, and it was horrible. I’d lost my pills a while back, don’t know why, some sick joke from one of the other newbies. Now the world was just shifting oranges and yellows until it was red. Too much red. Red faded into a pinkish, greenish disgust, as I realised, they were lying there, still. I’d gotten up, and found myself alone, no mockingly cold “Junior”s the others would throw at me, loaded with their garish yellow shame; the only other people were still on the ground. And they wouldn’t get up. And I’d done it. I was sure of it. I didn’t know who, but I must have gotten someone. Not even sure if it was just the rebels. Everything was such a haze the second I stopped taking it.

So I ran.

Found somewhere to hide and forgot everything for… however long I was there. I don’t have a name from then. Everything was too much. Everything _is_ too much. I can feel these colours, coming from everywhere, and it’s making my head spin, but it’s better than the nothing. Kinda like it, I think. I think… I think I didn’t know what liking things _was_ until now.

It makes me giddy. And nauseous. Like I’m 50 feet high riding the wave of colours running around my body, through my veins, and the vertigo’s fucking awful. But I think I can hold onto myself better. It’s warmer now, not so scared I’ll fall off if someone else sticks around. Don’t think Jet’s gonna hurt me. Not sure about the others, but the blonde, Pixie, probably could’ve if she wanted to. She ruffled my hair earlier. She laughed. She’s the most dangerous looking person I’ve seen, and she _chuckled_. Wish I could be like her.

* * *

Jet was sure he’d been pacing next to the kid for days. He had no fucking idea what he was going to do, and ever since FireBrand had told him about Smash’s disappearance, he’d been tearing his hair out tryna get someone to do something about it. Nobody would move! Much less the fucking kid, who was just wandering around, occasionally bumping into people and saying basically nothing before finding another corner to look round. He could swear he’d caught him grinning after near sending Ash to the Witch with fright. And Rave just found it funny of course. He and the kid actually seemed to be becoming _friends_ , or at least bonding over enjoying freaking people out.

No no no, this wasn’t his fault. He was just a distraction. To Jet and to everybody else. Smash Hit was missing! Okay maybe just a couple days late from a mission to the Hexes, but still. They were in charge of the radios, he shouldn't be cutting off like this. And to make matters worse neither of their partners wanted to _do_ anything. FireBrand kept going on about how she had to stay here to keep up the long term logistics planning – anything for her little garden project – and Pixie kept dismissing him offhand, saying they could handle themself just fine, and to stop worrying.

There she was again, grin plastered over her freckled face. Probably about to spout some more pep talks while her _partner_ was out who knows where. Jet crossed his arms and turned away, stubbornly ignoring her.

“Star! Wow, Raven was a bigger influence than we thought, A plus brooding there.”

Jet wasn’t looking but he could _see_ the shit-eating grin. He gritted his teeth.

“Aw, not even a hello?” She was standing opposite him now, thumbs hooked in her belt through the many holes in her mesh dress. “Cause I’ve got some good news,” she almost _sang_.

Jet huffed and looked at her properly, “What is it.”

Her grin was almost ridiculous now, “Got a transmission direct from a certain one-eyed comm-officer. Smash Hit’s okay, you can breathe kid.”

Jet’s arms fell to his side and he almost laughed. “Thank the Witch. But wait, what happe-?”

“Dust storm fucked with their radio, just got it fixed at the Hexes’. But there’s more.”

“Oh?”

“They want us to come take a look at something, they’re sayin’ it’s important.”

“So that’s “us” as in?...”

“You, me! Couple others too ‘course – don’t plan on sending anyone out too lonely.” Jet could see that she was barely stopping herself from hopping around in excitement, yep that was more like her than the calmly blasé she’d been before. “So whaddaya say? Had enough of solo missions?”

“Pfft, for now.” Jet stood up from the post he was leaning on and stretched. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the kid. He was sitting under a shelter, messing around with something he couldn’t quite make out. Wait. Oh fuck. Oh shit. “Uhhh Pixie… might wanna keep an eye on your gear.”

She laughed, “It’s fine! No one here’s gonna do any damage with it,” but Jet had already set off marching towards him.

He snatched the taped together components out of the kid’s hands, glaring down at him. The kid looked up at him, face completely serious.

“Boom.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jet snapped back at him. “What made you think that -.”

“Relax,” Raven stepped out from whatever shadow he’d been lurking in. “I was keeping an eye on him. Not like the kid knows how to make anything dangerous.”

“And what, like you’d know if he _had_ done?”

“Point.”

“I do _so_ ,” the kid whined, “but ‘m not stupid. Not gonna blow us up.”

Jet didn’t even realise Pixie had taken the bomb off of him until she tossed it back to him, floundering to catch it.

“He’s right, gotta say, I’m impressed.”

The little ghoul was practically beaming at her. All those perfectly straight city teeth, it kinda gave Jet the creeps.

“Still,” Pixie added, kneeling to clear up some of the junk, “you ask me next time you want to play explosives. Might teach you a few things.” She went to ruffle his hair, but he flinched, and she smoothly went back to arranging her gear. No one knew how that mess of a chest was organised, but she insisted it made sense to her. Seemed to make sense to the kid too, he’d not really taken out anything more than he needed for his little experiment.

“Alright, kid. Leave Pixie to her stuff, you’ll want to be at the campfire tonight, get to meet everyone.”

“Really?” He was grimacing.

“Hey, you can go any time, just thought you might like it. Plus, dinner.”

“Who knows,” Raven added, pushing his long dreads back into a bun on top of his head, “The chef might sneak you a little extra.” He gave a small smile to the kid, who seemed a little more at ease. Jet could've sworn he'd never seen Raven smile so much before.

“Yeah, ‘kay. But I’m sticking with you guys.”

“Of course.” Jet met eyes with Raven over the kid’s head, and pulled a face, but he just shook his head a little, and started off towards the rations tent.

* * *

The flames of the fire aren’t big, but they still leap and spark and lock me in. It’s enough to forget the amount of people here. How many? Twenty? Thirty? Too many. And they all want to talk. I hug my backpack closer. Nobody gets to take this.

Didn’t think that rebels existed in these big groups. They told us there had been big units, trained us to fight them, but they were all gone by the time we finished. By then they’d got the hang of outnumbering. The white and red. No, I can't think about them. Too much.

Wonder if it’ll happen to us.

I look up from the fire, scanning the horizon for hoards of white, eyes flitting back and forth. I can feel my heart beat quicker, it starts blurring, and a voice, soft.

“You want to leave?”

It’s her. The pigtails. Fire Brand?

I take a breath in. Focus on the fire again, watching the orange lick around and sputter across what looks like a whole dead bush. Shake my head.

“Good, you looked nervous for a second there.”

She sits down next to me, hands cradling a chipped ceramic mug with a blotchy five pointed star painted onto it in barely faded bright blue. She’s barely touched her soup – mine disappeared long ago; crumbs of the extra bread I’d been given still scattered on the floor.

“You like the mug?” Her voice is distant as she joins me staring into the fire.

“Mm.” Not really sure. It makes something in me hurting and purple. Looks like torn up drawings. Shredded once Nanny arrived. Replaced with colour by numbers that had to be perfect. Where the colours were all accurate and _wrong_.

“Jet Star made it for me, a long time ago.” She sighs and takes a sip. Grimaces. Must be cold. “He used to follow me around, when I was his age. Just after…” She trailed off, “Well, I think he wanted to be me. He might do still. But reckless twenty-year-old me. He can do better than that.”

“After?” I ask.

“Sorry?” Her eyes focus back, no longer lost in the fire.

“Just after what?”

“That’s Jet's to tell.” A voice behind me almost makes me jump, but I realise I know it. Raven.

I curl my legs into my chest, squeezing my backpack, “Sorry.”

“All good. But anyway, I wanted to ask;” he turns to Fire Brand “about Smash Hit.”

“What is it?”

“I mean, could I come with?”

“You _do_ know Jet’s going, right?”

“Ugh, yeah, and I don’t know _why_ , but -,” he shakes his head and straightens himself out, “you know I’ve got friends with the Hexes, I want to see how they’re doing.”

“No other reason?”

He looks away, and I scoot round to look at him properly. He’s fidgeting with one of his many rings, they make him look metal, but they’re more intricate than any droid.

“I uhh, I had a dream.”

“Really.” Fire Brand’s voice is flat. It feels wrong in my head.

“But that doesn’t matter! And you have to agree they’d want to know – even if you don’t want to see it.”

“We are _not_ having another argument about the Witch.” She's the closest to shouting I've heard, but still calm. Something chimes in my head when she says it.

“The Witch?” I ask, but they ignore me.

“And anyway,” Fire goes on, more measured, “who’s going to look after him.” I look around and realise she’s pointing at me.

“What?”

“I mean,” she turns to me and opens her mouth, then shuts it, and settles on “kid, am I right that you don’t want to be left alone here without Jet Star or Raven or Pixie?”

“No,” I answer immediately.

“Sure,” Raven replies to Fire, “But uhh- maybe he can come with?”

“I’m not sure. Do you want to?”

They’re both looking at me, Raven with pleading black ringed eyes, and Fire with seriousness in her almond shaped darkest brown ones.

“Uhhh..” I don’t know. I don’t know what they’re talking about. And I want them to stop looking at me.”

“Want to what?” comes a voice behind me and I spin around, certain it’s gonna be another stranger come to prod and ask questions of me. But it’s just Jet.

“Raven wants to go with you and Pixie to the Hexes,” Fire sighs, “and he wants to bring the kid with you.”

Jet’s mouth twists and he stares at Raven. “Are you serious?”

“I have to! I had,” Raven’s voice gets quieter, “I had a dream. And if I go, the kid does to.”

“You and your dreams.” But there’s something in Jet’s face that’s softer. He looks away, back at me, “But the kid? Does he even have a mask?”

I straighten up, and grin at Raven. I’ve been wanting to show Jet this ever since Raven gave it to me. He gives me a thumbs up.

I reach into my backpack, and bring it out. When Raven found me hiding near his tent, after Jet had gone to talk to Fire, he’d asked me about a mask. First thing he asked after my name. Spilled out a bag of clothes, jewellery, bandanas, scarves onto the floor, and there it was. Faded green, a big ugly face, purple hair, screws in the neck. He’d laughed when I’d picked it, but it was the only mask there big enough to cover a whole face. He picked me out a matching green bandana, and promised we’d repaint it brighter later. Get the colours right.

“I’m impressed,” Fire smiles, “got a proper little rebel here don’t we. So, Jet?”

She looks over for an answer and Jet is trying to stifle giggles into his hand.

“What?” I ask. He thinks it’s stupid. Oh god, he’s just like-

“No no it’s great! It’s just,” he straightens up, “he really is a little ghoul huh?”

Ghoul. I like it.

“That’s the plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's. uhh. been a while. Sorry for the few months but I'm really looking forward to what's coming next and I'm on it, I swear! Thanks for reading, and we might be going exploring, finding a few more people soon...


	5. Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in the city....

The city is a chessboard. Perfect, logical, and monochrome. You, the black side, have a single pawn, ‘cause someone snuck in and painted all of your other pieces white, and they’re _hers_ now. You have no king, so there’s no real reason for the others to try and get you. You sit there; move along your path, chosen with your very first move. Knights and Queens move around you, but you keep your head down. Look out for other pawns that want to change track, they might kick you off for a jump to the side. Of course, you could do that too. But why would you. Just go. And you’ll meet someone opposite you. And you’ll sit there, unable to get around. That’s your life, congratulations.

Everyone here’s playing this game. They all want to blend in; to conform so there is no threat. They paint themselves onto her team. If you do that, maybe you can reach the other side. Become a queen. But no one really gets that freedom unless they’re the type of person to sit up from their game, walk along the line of boards, and crush any black pawns that look too close to the edge.

When he was a child, people had thought Ollie would be one of them. Stephen had thought they’d never be more frightened for him. They were wrong. It was when he’d deliberately started failing out of the program that they were really, truly, scared. Their mother treated it with her usual denial. They couldn’t blame her – the tactic had served her well. It was state-supported too – for a while they’d even given her hair dye just to keep up appearances. Hair dye was a controlled substance, and it spoke to father’s position that she’d been allowed to purchase it. That, however, was as short-lived as father. Now, red roots were coming through. She worried about _that_. Not that anyone else cared. Not anymore. No more invitations, no more connections, no one at work knew that she’d had a blonde husband and a dark-haired first child.

But Steph doesn’t have the time to worry about her anymore. They have their own job, no, a career. They’re moving forward in their line. And they’re trying more than anything to overshadow their delinquent younger brother before it gets them both killed. Or worse.

Of all the times to disappear on them! Didn’t he realise how terrifying this was for them? He has an exam coming up, he should be thinking of nothing but homework, and Steph’s under review at work – they can’t be running around cleaning up his messes. Steph grits their teeth, picturing the backlash when he fails the exam. Sure, they’d gotten away with _their_ rebellious phase when their father was alive and still landed a cushy advertising job – but Ollie’s? It could wipe them all out.

Sometimes they wished they were still taking that shit.

Not always though – at least now they get to be _angry_ with him.

* * *

Violet, I decided. The sky should be violet. Then pink. Then red. Then, for the sun, a blinding white. I left that part blank, but it was different now. It wasn’t the white of nothing anymore. It was the white of _everything_. All colours. Just inexpressible by any of the pens I had on me.

I looked at the tiny square of sunset, only a few inches tall. Still, it took up more space than anything else on the page. In the room even. The place was so painfully bare and open, it was a miracle I’d survived in it so long.

Through the door, left ajar, I heard footsteps; and slowly, without any panic, turned back to my homework. Time to see how long I could keep them off my back. Face still, I put on the mask of calm I wore in every blinding white room. Next, the voice. “Yes?”

No emotion. Nailed it.

My sibling walked in the room and turned to face me. Ah. They weren’t even bothering to wear their work face. Shit.

“What the _fuck_.” Their voice was a hiss, and I could tell they were trying not to yell. Couldn’t wake mother up, of course. “Would you care to explain where you’ve been the last _two days_?”

I gave up on placating them and let myself smile a little. “Would you believe me if I said I was studying?”

“Wow, Ollie. Yeah. Of course you were. You’ve been real busy studying for the exam that you have every intention of taking.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I mused, still looking at my homework. I could do this in my sleep. I filled in the last two and shut the book loudly, interrupting the rhythm of the frustrated pacing that I could’ve sworn had worn a groove into my floor.

“I want you to _talk_ to me! Not just disappear without a word!”

I spun around to show them just what I wanted to say to them, but their seeing their face put a lump in my throat and I had to look away before speaking, “We _used_ to talk,” I glanced back up at them, “Poison.”

They were quiet too now. There was hurt in them still. The same hurt that I felt winding its way around my insides and that was spat out with every act of rebellion. It must have been building up in them for years now, since they gave up.

Their words, when they spoke, were terse, but they were betrayed by a faint wobble of emotion. “That isn’t my name.”

But the iron in their gaze? The anger? That was Poison all the way through.

In the silence that hung after they left, in my blank little room, I allowed myself a smile. My sibling was in there still. It’d been nice, someone having my back, and if my guts finally outpaced my luck, I might need it. I had work to do.

* * *

“Pixie! Man, is it good to hear your voice.”

The voice that crackled through the radio was warm and upbeat, and for a moment Jet felt nothing but relief, all problems disappearing into the fuzzy distance. Smash Hit had that kind of effect on people.

“Same here babe, same here,” Pixie grinned into the transceiver, as though she could send it to them across the waves. Jet wouldn’t actually be surprised if they were receiving it loud and clear. “What kept you? Fire wasn’t too clear before she rushed us off.”

“Oh, a little radio-related disaster: the big setup went down, and even the VHF wouldn’t work – I was running all around in your direction, up hills, waving my little transceiver around like I was tryna flag down the Witch, but nothing. Then, all of a sudden, it was gone. Like something was passing between us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jet caught a grave look flit over Raven’s face, where he was sitting against a rock next to Ghoul, who was deep in one of his many naps. As soon as it left Raven’s face, he saw Ghoul shiver in his sleep, before he felt the wave of chill wash over him, twisting his face serious again.

It seemed Pixie felt it too, uncharacteristically silent.

“But anyway…” Smash continued, more uncertain, “Did I hear you say _us_?”

Pixie shook the frown off her face, and answered, “Yeah, got a whole little gang coming to pick ya up.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but you sure that’s the best idea? Fire Brand isn’t here is she?”

“Nah, droids couldn’t drag her away from her people. She’s safe. Got Jet Star, Raven Call, and a newbie here with me. Say hi, boys!”

Pixie started to beckon him over, then gave up and pushed the transceiver in his face. “Um, hi,” Jet said. Raven just rolled his eyes.

“oh, hey, lil’ Star! Real sweet of y’all to come find me, but why the crowd?”

“Jet volunteered first, and Raven had one of his _premonitions_.” Her rolling eyes were as audible as her grin had been, Jet had to hold back from getting defensive on Raven’s behalf. “The kid just don’t wanna be on his own.”

“Not just that.” Raven straightened up and spoke. Next to him, Ghoul opened one sleepy eye to look at him, then closed it again. “He saw the same thing.”

Jet just stared at Raven, while Pixie scoffed. Ghoul hadn’t said anything about that. “Right, cause you put it in the kid’s head. Not time for this right now Raven.”

Raven muttered something, but then Smash’s voice came back through the speakers. “The kid might not deserve that tone, Pixie. Something’s up. And I’m not too happy ‘bout leaving Fire alone.”

Wait, they were worried about Fire? She was the toughest person Jet had ever met. He was about to join Pixie in laughing it off but stopped short when he saw her grimace instead.

“Sure, but you think _she’d_ take that reasoning? Twenty other people ain’t alone, even if we’re not there. Besides, something’s always up, it doesn’t mean nothin’.”

“I mean it, there’s-“ They cut off, and everyone was left staring at the static in confusion, until their voice came back in. “Sonofa- Okay I’ll explain when you’re here. Be quick though.”

“You okay?” Pixie shook her head. “Ugh, all right. Love you.”

“Right back at ya. Stay safe.”

An eerie silence came over the group. Pixie didn’t say a word as she packed the radio away and started fishing in her pack for meals. Jet could feel there was something he wasn’t getting.

Still, what could he expect. This was just how they’d always been. He could remember sitting out at night after his parents had gone. The three of them had been good friends with his parents, and they’d come to visit him, to talk. They were bright in the darkness, even Fire Brand, and had kept by his side the whole time. _Hers_ too, all those nights he’d left her alone in the tent to sit outside, watching the horizon for some kind of sign. They’d talk, and talk, but never _tell_ him anything. Not about that night, which he’d barely made out through silhouettes on the tent wall. And so much noise. They refused to clear anything up. “C’mon lil’ star, no use treading that ground again.” He’d heard it so many times. Once he’d gotten Fire Brand to spill that she’d seen his da go, but never a word more.

He never got what it was that happened. Not until- Well, he’d rather have found out any way but that. Two parents and a baby sister later, they were sorry, they should’ve told him, but by then he was a child of vitriol and rage instead of forgiveness. And so they kept him in the dark, worried he’d act out and endanger himself.

They loved him, sure, but there were so many things they wouldn’t say. He wasn’t a child anymore; he deserved at least a little respect. Raven too, though Jet hated to admit it. Neither of them were irrational angry teenagers, they could be taken seriously.

Still, he didn’t ask anything when Pixie handed him some kind of snack bar and sat down next to him.

“Eat up, we’re gonna want to be up and moving soon as possible.” She sounded off, her head somewhere far from the two of them.

“Sure sure.”

He sat fiddling with the wrapper for a while, uncertain if he should speak up. She was acting weird, she was never silent for this long. But the inevitable guilt from his frustration was coming up to silence him. He was trying to push it down and ask about the silence, when Pixie blurted out. “Fuck it. Alright, you outta know.”

“Um, what?” Jet almost dropped his snack bar.

“It’s just, it’s just things are so much scarier now, even if it don’t make sense! Anything that could possibly fuck stuff up seems world ending. And it’s different cause, you know we consider you like our kid, but you were older, and Fire wasn’t in charge, we weren’t so _responsible_. And it’s like, you feel lowkey guilty, but then guilty for _feeling_ guilty, but it’s only cause this is so dangerous! And-“

“Woah, woah,” Jet cut Pixie off before he was completely drowned in the words that spilled out of her. “What exactly is happening?” He could see Raven and Ghoul were both awake and just as confused as him.

Pixie bit her lip and let the words fall out with as much terror and elation as could fit within her little frame. “Fire Brand’s pregnant.”

"She's what!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and I will not expand. Thanks for reading!


	6. Messengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul gets a visit from his old friend, families are reunited, and a simple data transmission goes horribly wrong.

The night sky is indigo dark. My first nights in the desert, the stars smeared across the sky had been mesmerising, but I can’t see a single one. It’s not cold as it should be, either. I’ve been shivering under the coat Raven gave me all day, but the shaking doesn’t come over me here. It’s comfortable, like I’m leaning back in warm water even as I’m standing up.

The others are asleep. Jet Star and Pixie had talked and talked until they were exhausted, and I couldn’t make out a word. Didn’t want too. Too busy, too much going on, and I didn’t understand it. Raven just stared where we were headed. Told me we’d be there soon, smiled under his breath, not looking as I picked at the stitching on my shirt under his coat.

The shirt had been Jet’s, once. It had felt uncomfortable, at first. Like I was stealing it. But here I barely notice it. Nothing snags on my thoughts; it’s open. A soft, welcoming, rich darkness.

I start to fall into it like I had so many times before, back in the warehouse. It was a refuge then. This time, though, I’m not so desperate for a break. I _remember_ being here before. So, I speak first.

“Hey,” my voice is quiet, but I know she can hear me, “you out there?”

“As always.” The words rush past my ear, and I turn to see a jagged fog behind me. In it there are glints of purple and gold, but I can’t focus on anything long enough to make out a form. “Nice of you to notice.”

“Why?” The breeze seems to give an amused snort, and I step towards the mist. “Why come see me?”

“Because you saw _me_. Not everyone does, so it seems like it’s my business to keep an eye on you. Well, it was. Looks like you’re covered now.”

“If I’m covered, again, why come see me?”

The mist swirls and suddenly it’s all around me, feathers brushing past my cheek.

“A warning. There’s a cuckoo in the nest.” The voice echoes, coming from no direction in particular, until it fades out.

“A what? In the what?”

The mist is already clearing, stars returning to the sky, and I’m back under a blanket, A bird with shiny black feathers and golden eyes lands in the tent flap, still open to the darkness. It tilts its head, so its eyes meet mine; then, in a flap of its wings, it’s gone, and the sun is in my eyes.

I scrunch my eyes against the harsh light and noise coming from outside, scrambling to keep hold of the dream in my head. A face appears in the tent flap – Jet Star.

“Wake up sleepyhead, we said we’d be with the Hexes before the heat gets real, gotta get packed up.” He reaches a hand to me and I take it, letting myself be dragged upright.

I groan as I scrabble for my boots. Another present from the home crew, they’re missing a heel and blister my feet, but are a million times more comfortable than the combat boots I was issued. Walking’s still hell though. I try and do up the laces, but my fingers and eyes are in a fog and it won’t work. There’s a rustle of tent fabric, and Jet Star is sat in front of me, tying my laces. I turn my head, but there isn’t time to be embarrassed before he’s done and dragging me out the tent with a smile.

“C’mon Ghoul, not far to go now!”

* * *

Raven’s excitement was palpable, from the first glimpse of a radio tower on the horizon, dark fabric hanging off it and flittering in the breeze. Jet felt wrong, walking next to Pixie instead of him, squeezing his hand in his own. Even when they weren’t dating, they’d been joined at the hip. Now it was just awkward. He couldn’t look at him without thinking about the fights, sharp words that had flown between them, petty resentment that had gone unsaid since they were kids, when Raven had first come to join them. He’d stayed – he’d left his family – to be with Jet, and now he couldn’t shake the sinking dread that he would go straight back the minute they arrived at the Hexes’.

A piercing caw interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up just in time to see a huge crow swooping right at him.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“Sorry,” a voice called out, sounding quite amused and not at all sorry, “he’s not quite used to visitors.” The lilting voice came nearer, and Jet blinked to see a tall woman with close cropped black hair wearing striped black and white sleeves and an unnerving smile.

“Lil!” Jet heard Raven almost running up to them, “How’ve you been? Family getting bigger?” He stopped next to Pixie – who was still sniggering at Jet’s shock – and held up his gloved hand for the bird to land on.

“Oh yes,” she replied, “Sorrow here’s brand new, and the flock’s near doubled since you’ve been gone. But you’re here for your own family now aren’t you” she said, fixing her smile on Pixie, who sobered up.

“Uh, yeah, great to see you Lilith, but do you know where Smash Hit is?”

“Still off in the tower, I don’t think they’re the biggest fan of our little feathered friends. Can’t say I blame them, Woe and Poe keep teasing them, poor thing.”

Raven handed the bird back to Lilith, much to the disappointment of Ghoul, who’d been staring at it, fixated, the whole time.

“Thanks,” said Raven, “Um, would you mind if I came back and met everyone after we get them? Feels like millennia since I saw you all, plus I gotta meet the newbies.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, remember.” Lilith smiled at him and bent down to kiss his forehead, before wandering off towards the largest tent, stroking the bird.

“Well,” Pixie shook herself, readjusting her backpack and her uneasy smile, “let’s go fetch ourselves a messenger.”

* * *

“Are you kidding me!?”

I cringed under the inevitable shushing from Flyer and the others, picking up the card from where I’d thrown it.

“What the hell kid?” she hissed, “You want everyone to know we’re here?”

I bit back a _don’t call me kid_. “Yeah yeah, sorry,” I muttered, “just could’ve sworn I fixed it last time is all.”

The droid – they hadn’t given me a name – was silent as I typed into their arm for what felt like the millionth time, wincing a little as I stuck the card back in, and just nodded to tell me that the data was coming through this time.

“You need anything else fixing while I’m here? Don’t know when I’ll be able to get into the lobby again, they’re cracking down around the exams.”

Flyer looked at the droid, who shook their head, and waved them off as they left, walking unnaturally fast. I stared as they disappeared out the door of this little run down basement, wondering how exactly they moved like that, but it was impossible to tell under the long ragged skirt they wore that flapped in the breeze behind them.

What to do now. Flyer eyed me from across the table, lips in a tight line. Her cybertronic eye flashed slightly – scanning me or something. I bet she didn’t even realise I’d noticed it. She didn’t seem to get anything, and her face relaxed.

“Thanks, y’know, for risking your neck like this.”

“Least I can do.”

“I mean, I’m still shocked that one of you crow project kids isn’t followed twenty-four seven. We couldn’t normally dream of getting this kinda info.”

That was a joke, right? I laughed, “Guess they just can’t catch me.”

“Good on you.” She swung her legs off the chair and moved towards the exit. “Now, we gotta get –“ She stopped as a light started blinking on the panel of her glove, and started scrambling off, swinging her backpack on.

I grabbed her shoulder, feeling panic run from her into me. “What’s happening?”

“Silver’s down, they’ve got it, I gotta-“ She shook me off “-I gotta run.”

“Wait!” I sprinted after her, as she wound through alleys and underpasses I could’ve sworn weren’t on the city maps, a blur of neon green in the darkness.

Running up a concrete staircase, I tripped, and looked down to realise the steps were strewn with bits of shiny chrome plating and scraps of soft flesh coloured plastic. Something that looked like a finger, curled in and sparking at the torn joint, rolled past me and I gulped. Silver was definitely down.

I took the last few steps slowly, coming up to see Flyer kneeling in the middle of a pile of scrap. In front of her was the droid’s – Sillver’s – torso, with one handless arm and stumps of legs. The rest of their legs were scattered, rolled far away on their wheeled feet – of course. Their head lay off to the side, grey lips open and irises eclipsed by the open aperture of their pupils. I couldn’t quite register what I was seeing, my feet felt like they were glued to the ground. Flyer seemed much the same. Her body heaved with irregular sobs, but no sound came out. Edging round I saw her face twisted in anger and frustration, as she tried to bite back the sobs and pick through Silver’s body for the card. She kept moving to open the arm, then jolting back, as if she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“You should move, kid,” she spoke in a low, stubbornly controlled voice. I hadn’t even seen her tear her eyes from Silver, let alone notice me. “For your health.”

Gingerly, I kneeled down next to her and opened up Silver’s arm panel. Flyer sucked in a breath and closed her eyes as I took out the card.

“I mean it, the- the _things_ that tore them apart will be back with their bosses to check over the scene. To look for that. They always do; dracs are too dumb to find it.” She gestured to the chip in my hand. Tiny thing to die for. My intel can’t have been _that_ good. Flyer won’t die for it either.

I shook my head, “You should go. I’ve got it now.”

“Don’t-“ she snapped, before getting a hold of herself and hissing, “don’t tell me what to do. You didn’t know them. You’re a newbie, you could be being followed, bugged, anything! Just get out. I asked them to do this; it’s on _me_ to look after them.”

“And it’s on me to look after you.” A voice came from behind me. I spun round and froze, grabbing Flyer’s hand before she could reach for her gun. Poison stood above us, face full of that thunderous anger only they seemed to be able to muster. “We’re going. Now.”

Flyer wrenched free and stood up, eyes darting round, trying to work out what was going on. “Both of you! Out!” She dragged me up as I clutched the fractured card and stared at my sibling with as much venom as I could manage.

I opened my mouth to make some cutting remark, but before I could think they were tackling me back down to the ground, just as a ray of electricity came whizzing over my head.

“I _told_ you!” yelled Flyer, pulling out her handgun and backing off towards the underpass steps. I tried to get to my feet as Poison pulled us both behind a corner, stumbling before matching them and pressing myself against the wall.

“Quiet.” Poison hissed, teeth gritted.

“I wasn’t even-“ I bit my lip to hold back the retort as they stared daggers at me. They still thought I was a thirteen-year-old, trailing round after them in the lobby, watching in awe as they talked to people that I couldn’t have dreamed existed. But this was _my_ operation, I’d taken initiative where they’d given up, and I was actually doing something useful this time. My thoughts were cut off as another blast whizzed past our corner, grazing Poison’s cheek where they’d peeked round. They didn’t make a sound or even react to the red line it had drawn from the corner of their jaw to their cheekbone.

Glancing down to the steps, I saw a neon green bandana bob up just behind where a blast had scorched the floor. The patrol must have seen it too. Two sets of booted footsteps came closer and Poison sucked in a breath as they clamped their hand over my mouth, pressing us close to the wall.

I held my breath, facing straight ahead and not moving a muscle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the black and white uniforms and bagged mask of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W officers walk right past us, ray-guns trained on the spot where Flyer’s bandanna had appeared. One of them kicked a piece of Silver in front of them, and it skittered down the steps. And another. There was a pause, and I heard one jogging up to where Silver’s head had been, a _thunk_ , then it was sent flying down the steps.

There was a shriek, the squeaking of a leather jacket, and up came Flyer again, gripping her old fashioned and paint-splattered gun. Deafening noise echoed everywhere as she emptied it into the head-kicking crow. Poison squeezed their eyes shut for a second and let go of me. As soon as they did, I was reaching into my pocket for my knife, bracing myself for whatever they were about to do. It wasn’t there. Fuck. I looked down for a second to see if it had fallen, but as soon as I’d done so, Poison had leaped onto the one crow still standing and they were both falling to the ground. I ran over to help, but Poison was getting up and the crow wasn’t moving anymore.

Red. There was red all over them. They wiped their hands on their pants and the grey fabric turned black. They looked up at me, hair straggly and damp. It dripped red onto their face, all around their eyes, and I backed away on instinct. There was a harsh clang, as they dropped my knife to the ground.

They reached out, but I gulped and ran to the steps instead; Flyer could be-

She crouched on the steps, clutching her right arm, which was hanging limply, having dropped the gun.

“Lucky there were only two, huh?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Are you hurt?” I knelt down next to her, “What did they-“

“I’m fine,” She cut me off, “got to crawl back and lick my wounds. But the info-“

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely _does_ ,” she hissed, “lives could be saved.”

“But I can’t even tell them on my own.”

“Silver had the connection, yes, but I know you can make it work.”

“The chip connection’s busted.”

“Hook it up to something else then! Here –“ she pressed a metal box into my hand, “—their audio processor and mic, I was fixing it for them.”

I nodded and pocketed it.

“Off you go, Kid.” She corrected herself, “Kobra. And thank you,” she looked up at Poison,.”Whoever the fuck you are. Keep him safe. There’ll be more coming.”

She opened a door I hadn’t even noticed in the side of the underpass and disappeared, before I could say another word.

I looked behind me, where Poison was stood, silent. My knife was nowhere to be seen, and their hands shook. What with, I had no idea.

“Well…” I trailed off, meeting their gaze.

“I can’t believe you, Ollie.”

“Kobra.”

“Shut up!” They snapped. “Just take a look round, why don’t you? Look at exactly where your playing rebel has gotten us.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“How exactly? First you accept the crow training, now you’re trying to survive as a double agent? You do realise that we are _dead_ , right?”

“We’re not, we can..”

“We can what. Run away? That’s a fantasy. I’d have thought you’d have learnt your lesson last time.”

“This is different! I _know_ what I’m doing now!”

“No!” They were yelling now, “You’re still just a trainee. What do you know about what it’s actually _like_ to be a rebel? What do you know about staying _alive_? And,” they regained their breath, “What exactly is it you know that’s going to get us all killed?

* * *

Smash Hit had been waiting for the signal all day. Venom, V and M, whoever they were, was never late. Their feet were tired from pacing back and forth behind the radio tower, notepad out to record whatever code came through the static. They had just sat down when something from their transceiver made them jump back to their feet.

A crackle, then noise – not automated numbers, but breathing. A young voice, coming in and out.

“Tanaka.. …child, and Francisco… …watching, coming for you. Move to-“

There was a cry on the other end of the signal and it devolved into static.

**Author's Note:**

> *gasp* a baby!!!  
> Also fair warning - it's gonna be basically ALL flashback from here on out. Timelines? Who's she?


End file.
